


Blood & Creation

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, M/M, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester, Trueform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lucifer is the only one treated as Sam’s equal, his release from The Cage signifying the reign of Hell and the Era of The Boy King."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood & Creation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mostunclean](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mostunclean).



> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of services. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

Sometimes a king needs to put his fist down. To reiterate what happens when someone deviates from the course he laid out. Sam is a good king. Fair. Always honest about the lay of the land and the consequences. The First Circle of Hell is shaking and quivering with fear. All its occupants pinned by unseen hands as Sam picks off the weak links in the chain. Sam breaks into their necks like plump fruits, blood spilling past his lips as he gorges off the red juice gurgling out. He listens to them die in his grip, struggling vainly against a being that refuses to be moved. All of Hell’s insubordinates in the First Circle are forced to wait their turn, their blood-stained king moving with a kind twist on his lips to the next meal. 

Their handsome king gives his good-boy smile before he peels them apart, blood dripping down the hollow of his throat and hellfire stuck underneath his nails. He walks away from the Circle when he is finished, the rest of its occupants cowering and on its knees, kissing the floor their Boy King walks on in terror and praise. 

Sam’s so full. Full of blood and power, the air alive with his energy that even the Earth shakes as he walks. Even Heaven dare not peek over their lofty clouds to see the fuss.

The Boy King returns to Pandemonium, a capital meant to rival Heaven’s beauty and where the Boy King spends his days. Blood drips from his fingers, bare limbs walking across golden streets and ivory sidewalks while leaving a trail of crimson in his wake. While all eyes respectfully turn away, heads bowed and hands raised in either surrender or praise (perhaps both at once), there is one who doesn’t look away. 

Lucifer is the only one treated as Sam’s equal, his release from The Cage signifying the reign of Hell and the Era of The Boy King. Lucifer is his other half, his consort — a being of split atoms and black holes with wings of broken stained glass that will only bend for him. Even Hades and Persephone pay their respects to the exquisite couple who utilize law and teeth to keep the world at their feet. The rebellious archangel greets him when he enters the throne room, wings catching the light of the room and spilling a multitude of colors across the ornate hall.

Sam’s a glorious mess of blood and hellfire licking each bloodstained footprint he leaves. He moves to his throne, sliding onto the wide chair of alabaster white with the back bearing intricate engravings of the ouroboros amongst thickets of thorns and roses. The blood clinging onto his back is already painting it red, eyes clouded with black ink watching Lucifer move from his perch. 

“Are you content?” the archangel asks, voice far off and yet strikingly close. Hell makes him less the image of his used vessel and more the image he was created to be. In Earth he cannot view Lucifer’s wings but in Hell they are shattered and sharped remnants that clinked together due to being calcified and frozen in the icebox the Cage provided. It’s not surprising to one day find a hulking mass of teeth and eyes, crawling over the throne room’s ceiling to the six foot version of Nick, walking across the shores of the Ninth Circle with skin peeling and repairing itself. Sam adored his other half no matter how terrifying his image may be. He would kiss the towering maw of the Devil to his ruined lips with nothing but possessive passion. Lucifer is his and he is Lucifer’s. 

“I am not quite content…” Sam replies with mirth, watching the archangel pause before his feet, eyeing the blood that is already drying on his skin. He stretches his hand out, the archangel learning forward until a wet hand pulls him close, pressing a red-clad kiss against his other half. “Better,” the Boy King sighs, the blond making a pleased little thrum of a sound as he eases himself onto Sam’s lap. There is blood sliding across the underside of his thighs, slick sound of flesh dragging across the walls in the room in the form of echoes. 

Sam is still a creature of Earth. Still a thing with blood that pumps through his veins and needs. Lucifer can feel that hunger under his skin. Can feel the way Sam’s fingers are digging into his sides. Can see it in the way those bloodied lips part and licks each tooth clean. Can see it in the way ink shifts and coils in the King’s eyes, a low sound erupting from his throat in hunger. Sam wants more. Wants something far different and yet more. 

“Are you full?” Lucifer asks and Sam pulls him closer into his lap, so he can feel the heat between his thighs. Far from full. Sam pulls him close, digging his fingers into the small of his back, rutting upward so he can feel his intent. The blond of breakout energy and electricity tilts his head back so his Adam’s apple is pressing violently against the flesh of his neck. Sam bites the fruit, swallows the sound and its vibrations. This is better. Far better here than on Earth. In Hell they can slip into each other. Can become conjoined with thought and energy, steady flow of ruined Grace and soul. Sam carries the Messiah touch. Pours his gold of a soul into the cracks of Lucifer’s Grace — kintsukuroi — to give beauty to what is broken. 

Sam kisses heat. Kisses energy. Kisses Creation. It’s all Sam’s. This thing of space and time and intent and love is his. His to grab and rub against, to push his bloodied palms into and it bends to his will. He can mold the archangel, can still dig his wet fingers into the archangel where he’s already loose from before. The being of light whines and sinks down on the probing fingers, flittering between something whole and tangible to incomprehensible. A spot where Sam can taste the fires of creation off Lucifer’s tongue and feel the give of flesh against his fingertips. 

Encouraging Lucifer to lift his frame up, he pushes in with ease, not bothering to slowly bring the archangel down. He makes a soft sound that’s lost in the cackling of energy and nothing more. Sam enjoys this. Enjoys being with someone that doesn’t break and will match his pace with ease. Enjoys the harmony singing between their cores. Sam thinks he might one day pin the archangel down on the very streets and fuck him there for all of Hell to see. So all of Hell can watch the Devil cry his name out and fall apart under his touch. Or perhaps call his court to session now so all can view the Morning Star eagerly taking him in. So all of Hell can know that this is his and only his. That they are nothing but glorious together. 

The archangel groans at Sam’s passing thoughts, twitching and writhing on his lap. Blood is smeared across his lips and jaw, dancing across his nipples where a mouth has decided to nip and suck upon and across his stomach when their bodies rub against the other. Sam will greedily let his fingers hover over the archangel’s entrance as he thrusts upward, sneaking a finger in that causes muscles to clench instantly around him. It only prompts Sam to twist and shift his lips until a knocked out groan falls out. He’ll try to weasel the tips of his fingers, to stretch the already impossible stretched archangel who is giving out staccato gasps and whimpers. 

The Boy King will leave him encouraging words until he relaxes against the added intrusion, ragged words of praise leaving his mouth _so good so beautiful you’re just mine you feel so good just like that just you just you just you_ until Lucifer is giving wrecked noises. A sign he’s going to lose form soon and it’s instant. Spill of light engulfing him and it singes the demon blood racing through his bloodstream. Sam is left gasping and swallowing frigid air before a body slumps against him. 

Lucifer kisses the blood off his neck and speaks to his skin in a broken dialect that they can only understand. Sam listens with a tired smile, still tasting that fire on his tongue and the frozen dark matter in the back of his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
